


The Unspoken Enemy

by Marquise



Category: The Turner Series - Cat Sebastian
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-04
Updated: 2018-08-04
Packaged: 2019-06-21 20:45:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15566076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marquise/pseuds/Marquise
Summary: The darkness had always been there, lurking behind Oliver's smiles. Jack confronts it.





	The Unspoken Enemy

**Author's Note:**

> I can't get these characters out of my head. I have no idea if people want to read about them, but I needed to write them.

A week after they moved in — with draperies still over some of the furnishings, paint still tacky on the walls — the darkness followed. 

It had, of course, always been there, lurking about the edges of Oliver. Unspoken, it hid its face, hid behind smiles, was brushed aside to the point that sometimes Jack could even forget that it was there. But in this new comfort that had taken over their lives it finally came to life, reared its ugly head. 

The scream that woke him was piercing and painful, the scream of death. 

In a flash he was up, his hand reaching down beside the bed to grasp the knife he had stored there the first day. Held tightly in his fist he swerved, still seated, and took in the lay of the room. 

Nothing but shadows, stretched long in the moonlight. Not even the dust remained, swept out days before. All was silent for a moment, the creak of the house settling and the distant noises of the street low in his ears. 

Still he held on to the knife, waiting to strike, his heart pounding in his chest. His eyes crossed the space, made a circle of the surroundings, until they finally landed on Oliver. 

His lover lay at his side, curled under the blanket, in what could be mistaken for a state of rest. Nothing about him seemed at ease, however — even under the sheet Jack could see how tightly coiled his muscles were, how he had twisted himself into an impossibly tight ball. He set the knife down with no noise and hesitantly reached out to touch a shoulder. 

As he did that scream returned, torn from Oliver, cracking the silence of the room and wrapping itself around Jack’s heart. 

He saw that his lover had his eyes closed, saw the wetness on his face in the moonlight. Jack tried to swallow but his mouth was suddenly dry and his heart was pounding in his ears. Something in the back of his mind told him that this was not right. He knew of bad dreams, had seen Sarah and Georgie through more than he could count, but there was something wrong and sick in this one. 

“Oliver?” He gripped the other man’s flesh, shook him once. 

That was all he took. Oliver turned with such force Jack was certain he would hurt his leg, and shoved him with unexpected strength. It was all he could do to stay in bed, to curb the other man’s flailing by pushing back, gripping his wrists in his hands and pinning him to the bed.

In any other moment this position would raise feelings of lust and need in Jack, but now concern and tension ruled his gut, along with a persistent question: _What did they do to you?_

Oliver’s eyes were wide but he was not awake. There was no sense of sight there; the man was very far away indeed. His chest was heaving and he kicked at the sheets in a way Jack knew he would regret in the morning, but there was nothing to be done about it now. At the moment all of his energy was focused on bringing the man out of it, of bringing him back to Jack. 

It seemed, for a horrible moment, that Oliver would be lost to him forever. His mouth opened to scream once more but nothing more than a terrible, choking tremor came out and then life returned to his eyes. 

“Jack?” His voice seemed ripped from his body, strained. His eyes turned to take the room in, frantically searching for comfort, and Jack found himself muttering sentiments that would have seemed foreign on his tongue months ago and that now he meant more than anything in the world. 

“It’s all right, love” he finished, easing back on Oliver. But the other man did not want him to go and as soon as Jack pulled back Oliver reached out, wrapping the whole of his body around Jack’s, digging his nails into his back. Jack was certain he was drawing blood but he did not care — any pain was worth it to bring Oliver some comfort. 

The sob that wracked the other man’s body was expected but it clenched at Jack all the same. 

_What happened in Badajoz?_ Jack couldn’t even begin to imagine and he would never ask. Instead, he kept his arms around his lover and let him sob until there was nothing left, until he had worn himself out and sleep overtook him once more. 

Jack held him for the rest of the night, not sleeping himself, keeping vigil. 


End file.
